


Foie Gras

by winewhiskeybloodandchocolate



Series: Kintsukuroi (Repairing The Teacup) [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Family, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winewhiskeybloodandchocolate/pseuds/winewhiskeybloodandchocolate
Summary: All seems to be going well since Hannibal and Will found a new son in a homeless teen. The three of them are ready to take on the holidays and it seems as if the boy was truly their Christmas miracle. This chapter is mostly fluff, spanning from before Christmas to ringing in the new year.





	1. Foie Gras

**Author's Note:**

> Armand is copyright to me. While fan art would be appreciated, I do not wish to see him in anyone else's writing. He is my character and I plan to put him into my books. Once he's made his novel debut, things might be different, as I love fics for my novel's characters. But for now, please respect that he is solely mine.
> 
> I excluded pretty much any angst because my holidays are angsty enough. There will be angst in some of the chapters to come, of course, but I decided to just let them enjoy their damn holiday.
> 
> Happy Holidays and thanks for reading!!

As Christmas grew nearer, Will and Hannibal did their best to help Armand adjust to his new home. With the help of a Strasbourg doctor and a whole lot of attention, his infection was clearing up and the wounds were healing nicely. His spirits had been lifted and he looked healthier already. His smile was contagious and seemed to light up the room more than the Christmas decorations. The home seemed so much warmer with the teenager inhabiting it. 

“Something smells good,” Will said from his spot in the kitchen doorway, huddled up in the red plaid robe Hannibal bought him for his birthday. 

“Armand and I are making breakfast,” Hannibal hummed from the stove, while Armand nodded in agreement while he busied himself away at the counter.

“What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“That’s right, Will. It’s a surprise. You go sit in the living room. I’ve already lit the fireplace. I’ll bring you a cup of coffee in a moment.”

“I can bring it to him, H!”

“That’s fine, Armand. Thank you. But can’t you call me something better than ‘H’?”

“Non, not really. Your name is too long. Do you really hate that bad?”

“No, I suppose I don’t hate it that badly. Not coming from you, at least.”

“Good. I don’t want you to hate it. C’mon, Will. I need to talk to you anyway,” Armand said, dropping what he was doing and taking Will by the arm to the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Will asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Oui. Everything’s fine. I just need idea what to get H for Christmas.”

“How are you planning to pay for it?”

“I was gonna ask if I could borrow some money.”

“I’ll get him something from you.”

“Non. I wanna pick it out. I just need help.”

“I’ll take you shopping after breakfast. I didn’t have anything planned anyway.”

“Cool. I already got your gift. Oh! But H said he’d take me ice skating today.”

“Well how about we all go out together? We can get the rest of our shopping done, have lunch out and go ice skating. Then maybe we can take a walk and appreciate Marché de Noël.”

“That sounds perfect. I can get some toasted chestnuts?”

“Of course, Armand.”

“When we get home, we can watch cheesy Christmas movies?”

“Absolutely. I can make us all hot chocolate and the three of us will snuggle up on the couch, buried under blankets.”

“Really? I haven’t do that in years!”

“Really. How are your wounds doing?”

“They scabbed over. Healing okay… still hurt and itch though. H makes me rub that créme on it every night. He helps with bandages but it’s little bit embarrassed.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed. Hannibal used to be a doctor.”

“Whoa, really?! Cool! That’s why he’s so good at helping my wounds!”

_ “Armand! The coffee is ready!”  _ Hannibal called from the kitchen. 

Armand rushed off to get the coffee. He returned with two mugs, having resigned from the kitchen to allow Hannibal to finish alone. He plopped down next to Will, taking a sip of his own as he passed a mug to the other. He offered an innocent smile and rested his head on Will’s shoulder. He was happier than he recalled ever being and he felt safe for the first time in his life. Will returned a soft smile, gently rubbing Armand’s back as he sipped the coffee. He, too, was happier than he’d been in a long time. He felt closer to Armand than he ever felt with Wally. Perhaps it was because he’d spent three nights in a row, sharing the bed with Armand because the teen was suffering from nightmares.

After a while, Hannibal entered the room with a tray of food and set it down. He handed Will and Armand plates with crêpes already stuffed with nutella and Armand grinned, immediately digging in. Hannibal sat on the other side of Will, taking a bite of his own and watching how much their son was enjoying breakfast. He set some Christmas cartoons on for them to watch while they ate, though he wasn’t fond of eating in the living room. In fact, before their son, there was a rule forbidding such a thing. But this was family time. They bonded this way at every meal, whether they were at the dining room table or huddled up in front of the fireplace.

 

* * *

 

 

Will and Armand zigzagged through crowds, searching for something to get Hannibal. Will had already purchased everything for both of them, but he wanted Armand to have a full experience. The teen found it difficult to shop for anyone since he’d only known them for two weeks, but he loved them already. He was grateful to have a home and two fathers that wanted him, though his biological parents had taught him early on just how sinful it was. Here, he knew he could be himself and with that freedom, he was a hyper, excited teenager that truly enjoyed every moment. 

They searched for gifts for some time, until Armand decided what he wanted to get Hannibal. Will paid and had it boxed. They loaded it in the trunk and met up with Hannibal for lunch and ice skating subsequently after. It was only once they arrived at the rink that Armand decided to inform them he had no idea how to skate, so they happily started to teach and guide him. He wasn’t steady at all and stumbled into them repeatedly. After he got used to it, they simply held either arm and guided him around the rink. It would take time to teach him properly and they promised they’d take him throughout the winter to do so. 

When they returned home, Hannibal set to work on the most decadent, rich hot chocolate they had ever had, while Armand and Will warmed up by the fire in their pajamas. Once all three had warmed up, out came the boxes of decorations. Will promised to assemble the tree while Hannibal made dinner. Armand bounced between preparing food with Hannibal and putting branches into place with Will.

“Will? I can finish puttin’ the tree together. Dinner’s in the oven now. H want to talk to you,” Armand said with a smile. 

Will set the branch in his hand down and dusted himself as he stood. He stepped over the boxes and pulled Armand into a careful hug. He rubbed his back briefly and kissed the top of his head, as he’d done often since they took him home. He watched Armand cross the room and start to work on the tree before he left him alone.

“You wanted to talk to me, Hannibal?” Will asked as he entered the kitchen.

“I did, Will. Come help me wrap his gifts. We can talk more privately.”

“Sure. Is everything alright?”

“I think it is,” said Hannibal, leading Will to the master bedroom, where Armand’s gifts were sitting in bags, waiting to be wrapped. He took the wrapping paper and bows from another bag and unrolled it across the bed. Will picked up the first gift and handed it over.

“Okay. What do we need to talk about?”

“Our plans, Will.”

“Our plans? We’re living together and we have a son. My plan is to raise him to be all he can be.”

“I’m not talking about him right now. I’m talking about us. Today was nice.”

“Yeah, it was. Felt like a real family.”

“We are.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

“I haven’t acted upon my impulses since I retrieved our new identities, which we have yet to tell him.”

“We can’t have that conversation with him. He’s innocent.”

“He’s not innocent and I think we need to give him some sort of explanation. Perhaps not the truth, but he will eventually ask why the names on our IDs are not what he calls us.”

“What other explanation is there?”

“I haven’t thought of one yet. He’ll also eventually ask why our last names are the same on the IDs.”

“That’s because you went ahead and killed a married couple. I haven’t forgiven you for that, by the way. We’re married and you didn’t even propose.”

“We’re married and you have yet to kiss me. He’ll eventually notice that. He’s already asking if he’s interfering in our relationship. He thinks he’s to blame for our lack of intimacy.”

“What?! But he’s not. I’m not… I don’t want to be intimate with you. Not sexually. We’re intimate enough.”

“I’m not asking you to be intimate, Will. When you’re ready, it’ll happen. Not before. I can wait. I just need help with what to tell him. We can’t have separate answers.”

“Our sex life isn’t his business.”

“Our IDs are. We need to be ready.”

“Witness protection program. We witnessed a crime and testified, so they sent us to live in Strasbourg where we were safe,” Will suggested, cutting tape for Hannibal as he finished the last fold in the wrapping paper. 

“I do suppose that could work. We’ve both witnessed enough crimes.”

“And committed them.”

After a while, they heard a thud from the living room and Armand called out for help. The two rushed to the doorway to see their boy tangled in the string of multicolored lights. He gave them a sheepish grin and as they stepped forward to his aid, he stopped them and giggled. When he saw bemusement on their faces, he looked above their heads. Hannibal looked up, then at Will. 

“It appears our son is a prankster.”

“Why?” asked Will. Hannibal gently tilted  Will’s head up by his chin and Will groaned. 

“Mistletoe,” the teen smirked, evidently proud of himself. 

Hannibal shot Will a worried glance. Before Hannibal could excuse the lack of a traditional kiss, Will pressed his lips to Hannibal’s. Bewildered, after their recent discussion about waiting, Hannibal pulled back, brows knitted together. Will took his hands and leaned in, this time letting Hannibal close the distance. If Armand needed to see their affection toward each other, Will would give that to him. He knew he had pleased the boy when he heard more giggles. He did his best to hide his own growing excitement. He wasn't ready for that much affection.

Hannibal offered a warm smile, lacing their fingers and kissing him again, sweet and gentle. The kiss shared between them was genuine and without pressure, now that their first, awkward kiss was out of the way. When they parted, the tingling lingered and Hannibal promised Will space to let it soak in. He returned to the kitchen to check dinner, while Will helped untangle Armand from the decorations. 

Once Armand was untangled, Hannibal returned with some glühwein and turned on some Christmas music. The three decorated the tree together, drinking wine and laughing.  Armand had told some cheesy Santa jokes and pranced around with three pairs of antlers on his head. Hannibal donned a Santa hat and put a red ornament on his nose, setting a bow on Will’s head.

After they finished decorating, they sat down to dinner, then spent the rest of the night baking cookies. Armand snuggled into Hannibal's lap in the big armchair by the fireplace and Will sprawled out on the couch, reading a book. By time he finished reading, Armand and Hannibal were fast asleep, tuckered out from the eventful day. Hannibal had an arm wrapped protectively around the teen, whose head rested under his chin. Will smiled softly and covered the two in a blanket. He extinguished the fireplace and retired to bed.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, fresh snow blanketed the ground.  Armand was happily taking a walk with Will. The two discussed their nightmares and planned to find a great ice fishing spot sometime after the holidays. Will told him stories about fish that got away and had to take a moment of silence to sort through his memories of Jack Crawford. Those times he planned to catch Hannibal felt so foreign, from another life. He shook it away, remembering that he had never technically caught Hannibal. He had only said the right words to make Hannibal turn himself in. He could have done it again probably, but he wanted, no, needed Hannibal in his life. Armand needed him too. He was starting to accept that Hannibal was more than just a murderer. He was a person. He was a father, though for a short time, but he was part of the reason for such big smiles. Perhaps Armand was the key to redemption.

He had gotten lost in his thoughts and when he returned from them, he found Armand lying in the snow, making angels. Soon after, he had been tugged down right beside him. 

“Armand, no! It's cold! Let's get inside!”

“It's fresh snow! It don't last long like this in Paris! I want to make a snowman! And a fort!”

“We don't have proper winter clothes for all that. You'll get sick. You're only just starting to recover from pneumonia.”

“I'm fine.”

“How’s your cough?”

“Still there. Please?”

“No fort. A snowman. But only with help.”

“Great! I'll get H!”

“I'm not sure if that's really something he'd be interested in.”

“He will! I know he will! He like art! We can make the best snowman in all of France!”

“Go ask him. I'll get the base started. But you better put on some extra clothes. You don't want to get sicker, do you? Tomorrow is Christmas eve.”

Armand rolled his eyes and rushed inside. Not much later, he returned, dragging Hannibal by his wrist. Hannibal didn't looked thrilled about the cold, but a faint smile toyed at his lips anyway at Armand's excitement. The three of them had a blast, rolling and packing snow and shaping it into a snowman. Armand threw one suggestion after another on an entire snow people scene. Hannibal and Will both appreciated his creativity, but had to refuse allowing him to be in the cold so long.

Hannibal was mid-lecture when a snowball exploded against the side of his head. He shot an icy glare at the laughing teen until Will snorted. A smirk broke out across Hannibal's lips and he pelted Will in the stomach with a snowball of his own. It didn't take long for it to turn into a snowball fight, each one flinging snow at the other two. There was no evident team. Just pure laughter.

 

* * *

 

“Hey guys? Is this place haunted?” Armand inquired over dinner, mouth full of food. 

“What makes you ask?” Hannibal responded, doing his best to ignore Armand’s rudeness.

“I hear weird noise from the basement the past few days. I been trying to ignore but when I watch TV, I hear crying.”

“Crying?” asked Will, flicking a glance to Hannibal.

“Oui. Crying. Like… when someone scare kind of crying.”

“It’s probably just your imagination, Armand. Now, eat your food,” Hannibal replied coldly.

“It’s not, H. I was too scare to check it out.”

“Well… after dinner, Hannibal and I will go take a look. We’ll let you know if we see anything strange.”

“Merci.”

 

* * *

 

Will roughly pushed Hannibal against the bedroom wall. His face was stone and his gaze cut like glass. His blue eyes narrowed, drilling Hannibal for information, though Hannibal seemed not to care. He simply allowed it, eyes full of questions for his partner that his lips dared not speak. Nor did he have to. Will was the first to break the silence.

“What did you do?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Who’s in the basement?”

“Nobody.”

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Hannibal. You said you were done with that.”  
“I said I was done trying to draw out your full potential.”

“Who’s in the basement?”

“It is no concern.”

“It is if you want me ever to trust you.”

“The rudest person I have ever met, Will. You will find out in time.”

“When they’re on our dinner plates?”

“Not Armand’s. Just ours.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

“You do.”

“I don't. Who is it?”

“You'll thank me.”

“You're really not going to tell me?”

“Not until I'm sure you will participate.”

“I'm not going to participate.”

“You'll change your mind.”

“Just… Don't feed any to Armand.”

“I will not, unless he wants it.”

“No.”

“He might like it.”

“No.”

“What if he wants to?”

“Hannibal, I don't want him to know what you are.”

“I'm his father. Just like you.”

“Hannibal.”

“It would be his choice.”

“Hannibal!”

 

* * *

 

On Christmas eve, Will took Armand sledding, while Hannibal prepared the food. Armand had wanted to be a part of it to make sure Hannibal didn't mess up the recipes, but Will didn't want them to share the kitchen, just in case Hannibal had something planned. He figured the best approach was to keep their son distracted and it seemed to work.

The two didn't return home until afternoon and Hannibal greeted them with onion soup that Armand approved of. They warmed up by the fire, appreciating the festive decorations and the cheesy Christmas movies where angels made everything right in the world.

“Hey Will? Do you thinks I have angel to bring me to you?” Armand asked, gazing up from his crock of soup.

“I don't think angels had anything to do with it. I just think you deserve a family that loves you and gives you everything you need to succeed.”

“You don't know me. Why you think I deserve love?”

“You're a good kid.”

“Non… I'm…”

“You're a good kid. You haven't given us any trouble at all.”

“Yet.”

“We can handle it.”

“My parents can't… Papa want to send me to military school.”

“We're not going to do that.”

“Even if I do bad?”

“We won't send you anywhere you don't want to be. You're our son. We don't have to know everything about you to love you.”

“Why you love me?”

“We just do.”

“You won't.”

“When we live, we love strong, Armand. Nothing you do will make us love you any less.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“What if I kill someone?”

“Armand… What your mother told you about your father, that's not really your fault. But even if you did, we love you.”

“This is best Christmas ever.”

“I agree.”

 

* * *

 

Hannibal had prepared quite a fanciful, fragrant feast. He still wasn’t entirely sure what Armand’s favourite foods were, but he knew that Will’s favourite meals consisted of seafood. There was more than enough food to go around and there would certainly be some left over. He poured apéritifs and they gorged themselves on decadent entrées and succulent seafood plates. He had prepared coquilles Saint Jacques, which Armand practically inhaled.

When the teen stuffed his face with foie gras, Hannibal couldn’t help but to smile. He’d served it to far too many guests that complained of its nature, while their new son didn’t say a word. It was then that something about duck was muttered and Hannibal learned Armand’s favourite food. He made a mental note to make a roast duck for Armand’s birthday.

Even after the meats and cheeses had been consumed and dessert was on their plates, Armand’s appetite seemed insatiable. Will had merely picked at dessert, instead resorting to nursing a glass of wine and Hannibal could feel the tightness in his belly that indicated he’d perhaps overindulged. The adults sat back, drinking their wine and watching Armand clear his plate and anything they’d left on theirs. At least nothing would go to waste. Will was concerned that Armand packed so much food away because he’d been starved for so long, so he cleared his throat and prepared to ask him about it.

“Armand, are you still very hungry?”

“Non… I think I’m just about full now. The food was really good. As good as Maman’s,” Armand replied, while he chewed his dessert.

“You know there will be more food tomorrow, don’t you? You don’t have to eat until your stomach hurts.”

“Um… sure. I know that. I mean… you might change your mind tomorrow.”

“First, Armand, I want to thank you for the compliment. I am glad you enjoyed the food. Second, I must ask you what makes you think we’ll change our minds,” Hannibal chimed in.

“If I do somethin’ bad, you’ll take food away.”

“We would never take food away from you. You’re a growing boy. You need to eat. Did your parents do that?”

“Oui! If I was bad enough, Maman say I can’t eat. Papa sneak me granola bars sometimes.”

“What else did they do to you?”

“I can have some more wine?”

“Armand…”

“Please, can I have some more wine?”

Hannibal sighed and decided not to press the matter. He didn’t wish to upset the boy for the holiday so he poured him another glass to finish off the open bottle, while Will opened the glühwein for himself and Hannibal. With their bellies full, all they had left was to drink wine while they opened one gift each. Despite Armand’s age, Will urged that only one gift would be received that night and they would have to wait for Santa to arrive to deliver the rest. Armand certainly appreciated the thought behind it and snuggled up on Will’s lap while Will opened a gift that Hannibal helped him pick out.

Will smiled and kissed Armand’s temple as he tore the wrapping paper off of a tackle box. he gave his son a hug and thanked him as Hannibal opened the bottle of cheap wine he bought while he was angry. The look on Hannibal's face was priceless. Hannibal was doing his best to hide how offended he was by the quality of wine and did his best to give thanks that Will had gotten him anything at all. 

After they each had another glass of glühwein, Hannibal handed Armand a box. The teen unwrapped it and opened the box to find an apron, gifted from both of his new parents. He smiled wide and tried it on. He was glad that he was completely welcome in the kitchen, where he loved to be.

By that point, the glühwein and the other wines had really kicked in and all three of them were rather drunk. Hannibal and Will shared a slurred but intelligible conversation and Armand simply listened to the banter, trying his best to understand. When he couldn't, he decided to give them some time alone. He kissed them both goodnight and retired to his room.

When Will was too drunk to lift himself off the couch, Hannibal stumbled to his aid. He, however, was just as drunk and fell straight onto him. Will did nothing to push him off. They simply looked each other in their glassy eyes, no words spoken. After some time passed, Will closed the distance between them and they shared a sweet, deep kiss. 

Kisses turned to touches and Will slipped his hands lustfully under Hannibal's sweater. For a moment, Hannibal gave thought, letting Will's hands snake over his chest. With a stroke of his nipple, the decision was made and Hannibal gently guided his hands away. Now was not the time. They were both too drunk. Hannibal's body screamed for it and he did everything he could to avoid his compulsions. He wrapped Will in his arms, humming them both to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Hannibal rose early the next morning, tucking Will’s sleeping form in a blanket in the couch. He lit the fireplace and moved all the gifts from their bedroom closet to under the tree. He lit the tree and prepared dinner, thankful that Armand was a teenager and not a child. A child would have woken even earlier to find that Santa had yet to come. Armand, however, was the type to sleep until noon. Paired with the alcohol, Hannibal didn't expect Armand or will to rise until after 1. It gave him time to get everything together, then start on brunch.

With two meals cooking at once, Armand rose with a gurgling belly and a hangover Hannibal was prepared for. The teen was greeted in the kitchen with aspirin, water and a light breakfast consisting of an omelette and toast. He hadn't even stopped in the living room to peek at the pile of gifts under the tree. He flopped down at the kitchen table, sipping on the coffee Hannibal handed him and gulping down the pills. 

“Will still sleeping?”

“Yes. Let him rest. Eat your breakfast.”

“I need to get your gifts from my room.”

“Where are they? I can get them for you.”

“By the door. Did you and Will have good time last night?”

“We enjoyed the company. I appreciate the time alone you gave us. You're a good kid.”

“I don't wanna stop you from…  I always hear my parents. It don't bother me.”

“You won't stop us. You've… Don't tell will i told you… You've brought us together. I did some things that made Will very upset with me. Our trip to Paris was a surprise to him. I thought it would help us bond, but he didn't want to be near me. We had a talk after we met you and I think we may have resolved the issue. I haven't seen him as happy as I see him when he's with you.”

“He love me.”

“He does. So do I.”

“Why?”

“You're a brilliant young man.”

“I'm stupid boy.”

“No. Don't let anyone make you believe you're stupid.”

“Can't spell. Bad at English.”

“Those are things you have your entire life to work on. You managed to survive your life. Your parents. You have overcome your obstacles. You are strong and doing well.” 

“Bad at school.”

“Many people are. You'll do well. I see so much potential in you, Armand.”

“Je t’aime, H. Merci.”

 

* * *

 

Will eventually joined them for brunch and coffee, then afterward, they gathered around the tree. Armand was surprised so many of the gifts had his name on them. He hadn't expected more than one gift from each of them and he had even told them they didn't have to get him anything at all. He was happy enough just having a home.

Will opened a gift from Hannibal first, finding a fishing pole. In return, will had gifted Hannibal with a cheesy tie, which he had also purchased while bitter. the first gift Armand opened from his new fathers was a book. The next was a new gaming console, followed by several games to play on it. By that point, Armand was already in tears, having never been allowed to play video games before. He didn't know where to put all his gratitude, so he made Will and Hannibal open the rest of their presents first.

He had gotten Will a new aftershave with a ship on the bottle. Sheepishly, he admitted Hannibal helped him pick it out. Will gave a soft, genuine smile and hugged them, then opened one from Hannibal, which consisted of a good bottle of whiskey. Hannibal was next to unwrap gifts and found a new Madeleine pan from Will and Armand had given him a package of charcoals and a CD of classical music. 

Armand reluctantly opened the rest of his gifts. He had difficulty fighting back the tears as he found that his new parents wanted him to long for nothing. In a pile around him sat new clothes, art supplies and a cookbook. There was just one more present under the tree with no tag on it, but Hannibal urged Will and Armand to open it together.

As they peeled back the wrapping paper, they revealed a painting of the three of them, posed as a family. The frame was intricately carved wood and the detail was incredible. Tears streaked Armand’s face and he choked back a sob as he saw himself with a family. What he hadn’t expected to see was the detailed picture in the painting’s background which depicted a photograph of his deceased twin siblings. The reference photo had clearly been one from his tattered photo album. He shoved the painting into Will’s hands and curled up on the couch with his knees to his chest, wrapping himself in a blanket. Hannibal and Will held him close in his strong arms and rubbed his back soothingly.

“Thank you, Hannibal. This is a gorgeous painting,” said Will, near breathless.

“M-merci,” Armand croaked.

“Merry Christmas. I wanted to give you both a reminder that we are a family. Will, I’m with you no matter what. Armand, I am honoured to be your adoptive father.”

“Non… you ain’t. You and Will are my real parents. I only been here short time, but you guys give me everything. I feel safe here. I ain’t hungry. I’m getting health. I’m happy for first time in my life.”

 

* * *

 

While everyone else was preparing for the new year, Will was busy hanging signs that read ‘Happy Birthday’ while Hannibal busied himself in the kitchen, baking a cake. Armand had busied himself in his room, playing his new games. He had told his parents that he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday and when he smelled cake, he hoped that Hannibal had simply decided to bake. He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in years and he didn’t want to celebrate since his siblings couldn’t. 

When he headed downstairs for a snack and found the birthday decorations, he tensed. They hadn’t listened, but he couldn’t scold them for it. He knew they were only trying to be nice and show him they loved him. He whimpered and approached Will.

“That sign wrong… suppose to say ‘Happy New Year’,” he murmured.

“It is a happy new year. Now that you’re part of our family. We won’t have a giant party, but we  _ are _ going to acknowledge it. Hannibal’s baking you a cake and we got you some presents. Nothing as big as Christmas. Look… I know your mother blamed you for a lot of things, but Armand, this is a new year with a new family. You’re turning seventeen. It’s a new age for y-”

“Sixteen.”

“What?”

“I’m turning sixteen. And the twins should be turned six, but they can’t.”

“Sixteen? You told us you’re already sixteen. And the twins aren’t your fault.”

“I round. Only few weeks away. Sixteen. Was fifteen at Christmas.”

“H-Hannibal!” Will called, pulling Armand into a tight hug. Hannibal came in, flour all over his apron. He looked concerned.

“Yes, Will? Is everything alright?”

“Armand’s turning sixteen, not seventeen.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Good thing I didn’t write on your cake yet. I hope you aren’t upset that I baked one. This is a very important day to us. You completed our family. If you hadn’t been born, we would still be searching to fill a void.”

Armand groaned and hugged them both. He wasn’t happy about it, but he figured he’d get over it. At least they  _ wanted _ to celebrate. His parents hadn’t cared much about his birthday either once the twins died. But Hannibal and Will were right. This was a new life. He was happy here. He belonged with them. 

“Happy New Year,” he told them.

“Happy birthday,” they responded in unison.

 

* * *

 

They had kept their focus on New Years, though as the clock struck midnight, Hannibal presented Armand with a black forest cake, which he had expressed in passing was his favourite. The three shared a champagne toast and hugged each other close. While Hannibal and Will shared a deep kiss, Armand inhaled a slice of cake and helped himself to another glass of champagne. He noticed that his parents weren’t so shy anymore. They had started to hold hands and kiss and the blame he had taken upon himself shifted to an explanation that they simply hadn’t wanted to act that way in front of him until he was comfortable.

When they all had their fill of cake and champagne, Will presented Armand with more presents. While he and Hannibal were happy with the gifts they got for Christmas, they had agreed that nothing had been a better gift than having Armand as their son. They had decided for his birthday to keep his gifts simple; a few pajama sets and a new photo album to keep his photos safe.

Hannibal, however, had one more gift tucked away; a letter. He handed it to Armand, who, upon reading it, had a confused look on his scarred face. He put the letter down and looked to both of his fathers. 

“What do this means?” he asked. Hannibal and Will smiled.

“It means,” began Will. “That your mother signed guardianship of you over to us.”

“You talk to Maman?”

“We did. She decided that it was best if we kept you and raised you. It would have been difficult to enroll you back into school without some sort of paperwork confirming you’re our son. So we spoke with her and she agreed.”

“She never want me?”

“I’m sorry, Armand. No. She was an unfit mother anyway. She failed to give you the tools you needed in order to succeed in life. Will and I are going to help.”

“She do nice to sign these?”

“Yes. It was a kind gesture. She acknowledged that she couldn’t give you what you needed and allowed you to be with people that can.”

“I call her and give thanks?”

“Perhaps at another time, Armand. It’s after midnight. You should get some rest.”

Armand gave a nod and hugged them tight. He kissed them goodnight and reminded them how thankful he was. He expressed how much he loved them, while his green eyes welled with tears. They led him to his room and tucked him in, then retreated to their own, discussing their next plans of action.


	2. Coeur de boeuf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will learns of secrets that both Hannibal and their son are keeping. How will he handle it? Will the darkness within him be set free?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be more to this, but I decided since this was getting rather lengthy, I'd split it into two chapters.
> 
> I can't find the tags section, so... this chapter has content warnings for the following: discussion of abuse, gore, blood

**December 27th**

 

With Armand tucked into his bed, fast asleep, Will crept into the basement to investigate the teen’s report of crying. He knew Hannibal all too well, and he wasn’t going to wait for him to tell the truth. How could Hannibal think that he’d ever appreciate it? Life in Strasbourg was supposed to be different. He was ready for whatever mutilated body he came across, though he wasn’t as prepared for the soft sobbing that he was met with.

He drew back a curtain that Hannibal had hung, no doubt to shelter Armand should he become curious. His gaze fell upon a young woman bound to a chair. Sense came to the recollection of Hannibal’s words as he peered upon the face of their son’s mother.  _ The rudest person Hannibal had ever met. _ A dark smirk crept onto Will’s face. Knowing how cruel she had been to Armand, perhaps Hannibal was correct. This, he could enjoy. Perhaps even more than he had enjoyed killing Hobbs. A secret life of cannibalism and dragging your child into it was one thing. The abuse that Armand had endured for nearly sixteen years crossed the line. He recalled Armand’s soft cries when Hannibal worked to heal the injuries the woman in front of him left behind.  _ She deserved this _ . 

“Madame Duval,” he said, briskly. Her head snapped up in fear. His voice had clearly broken her from her self-pity.

“H-help me. Th’man you were with-” her quivering voice cut off quickly when the door to the basement squeaked open. She went rigid as footsteps made way down the stairs.

“I see you got curious, Will,” Hannibal replied, a proud look upon his face. “Have you given what I said any thought?”

“I have, Hannibal… for once, you were right.”

“Might you be joining me, then? It will be such a sweet justice.”

“I will… on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You make it very clear to her what’s happening and  _ why _ .”

“Of course, Will.”

“And give her a chance to explain herself.”

Hannibal offered a nod and plucked up a scalpel. He rounded her a few times, tracing it gently over her face. He loved the scent of her fear. “You heard him… explain.”

“P-please don’t hurt me. What do you want?” she cried.

“Your son.”

“Take him. He’s your burden. Do what you want with him. Just let me go.”

Will tensed at the words. “What if we said we wanted to kill him?”

“Go ahead. He’s a miserable little brat. Ungrateful, disrespectful, rude… such trouble. He drove us crazy.”

“He’s your son.”

“Something like that is no son of mine. He’s a monster. He killed  _ my _ children.”

“Oh, he did?” Hannibal asked, peering over the shining scalpel.

“Burnt them to a crisp. There wasn’t much left to bury, because of that little freak.”

“I see… and what became of him after he committed such a cruel act?”

“He was punished. His father and I, we lied to the police. Kept him out of trouble. Protected him.”

Will tapped his lip, pacing in front of her. He was furious that she could speak in such a way about Armand. Surely it had been an accident. “Why was he punished? He couldn’t have meant to.”

“He was high. He knew better. It’s his fault… he killed his own father! What kind of monster does that?”

“What happened with that?” Hannibal inquired.

“He was always in trouble. Stressed his father so much. My poor Henri. That boy really piled it on. Fighting at school, skipping school, failing his classes, smoking in the bathroom! He broke a boy’s nose. Henri’s heart couldn’t take it anymore. We loved Armand too much more than he deserved. He let Satan into his heart and into our home. He’s evil. You want him? He’s yours.”

Will pursed his lips. “He’s ours… good. We want him. How do you suggest we deal with him, if he’s so much trouble?”

“Only one way with boys like that.”

“What’s that?”

“Ask him. He knows what’s expected when he misbehaves.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him. But anything he says can and will be held against  _ you _ ,” Will growled.

“In the meantime, Madame Duval… I’ll need you to sign some papers,” Hannibal said, while Will stormed off upstairs.

 

* * *

 

After a few shots of whiskey, Will trudged up to Armand’s room. He dreaded this conversation. He certainly didn’t want to make Armand think about the horrors of his past again. But he wanted to know exactly how wronged the teen was. He wanted his mother to pay for what she’d done to him. With a shaky hand, he knocked on the door.

“Oui?” Armand croaked groggily from within. Will sighed and entered.

“Hey kid. I need to have a little talk with you. Can I sit down?”

Armand gulped and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Oui M’sieur. Am I in trouble?”

Will took a seat next to him and patted the lump under the blanket that was the boy’s thigh. He shook his head sadly and did his best to give a reassuring look. This was so much harder than he originally thought, with those scared green eyes staring up at him.

“No, Armand. You aren’t in trouble… but that’s what I want to talk to you about. I want to know what happens when you’re in trouble.”

“You need ideas how to punish me?”

“Not quite, Armand. I just want to know how your parents handled your discipline. Hannibal and I, we want to make your adjustment here easier. We want to know the rules and consequences you were used to.”

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“No, no. We want to know what worked and what didn’t. What we should avoid doing. What we should continue to enforce. I’d like it if you were honest with me. You aren’t in any trouble.”

“I will be when I tell you th’rules.”

“Why’s that?”

“I been breakin’ them.”

“That’s okay. We’ll figure out what rules we want to keep. You’re not in trouble for any of their rules that you broke with us.”

“Okay… you sure I not get punished?”

“Armand, I promise I’m not going to punish you.”

“Hannibal?”

“You won’t be punished.”

“Um… okay. I… no fighting, smoking, cursing, talk back or skip school. Papa made chart to make sure I not forget. I have to do my chores and study. Go to bed on time. Don’t talk to Jacques ‘cause he um… he likes boys and smoke pot.”

“Can you tell me about the chart?”

“It tells the rules and what happens if I break it. He check off each time I get punish. Gets worse each time.”

“Can you give me some examples?”

“For talk back, cursing, and smoking, Maman put soap in my mouth while I get hit.”

“While you get hit?” Will asked, already sick to his stomach.

Armand gulped and pointed to his dresser. Will took a glance, but didn’t understand what he meant. He searched for clues, and when they sat in silence for too long, Armand cleared his throat. 

“Maman hit me with that brush… all I need it for now. No hair left,” the teen clarified.

“Oh, Armand, that’s awful. That’s never going to happen here.”

“Don’t say never. I get it a lots. You change your mind if I’m bad enough.”

Will certainly had no intentions of ever hitting Armand, but perhaps saying ‘never’ was too much change for the boy. He offered a sad smile and kissed his cheek. “Okay. I won’t say never. And if I do change my mind, you’d have to have broken some serious rules, alright?”

“Merci. Don’t wanna get kick out. I like it here.”

“We’ll always weigh our options before resorting to that… what’s the harshest punishment they ever gave you?”

“Um… Papa use his belt a lot. Maman has rule that if he do, I don’t eat. That’s why I scare you take food away. When he die, he say he use martinet if I’m ever that bad again.”

“That was unfair on you, Armand. Nobody should be treated that way.”

“I do real bad. I break my classmate’s nose in fight. Almost get arrested. I shamed my family.”

“Your parents sound like they’re from a very long time ago. Their methods are so outdated, and proven to be harmful instead of helpful. Did they ever ground you?”

“Oui. But every time they do, I do what I want anyway. They say I can’t go out with a friend, but I did. So… when I get home, they hit me.”

“Oh?”

“First time, Papa use his hand and Maman use her brush. Next time, he use belt. After that, no more grounding me. He take my phone away, but I take it back. He use his hand again.”

Will hugged him close. “I understand. You’re going to have to respect us. But you’ve been very good so far. If we give you a rule, we promise we’re being fair, and you can talk with us if you think we’re not. It’s for your protection, or to prepare you for adulthood. Your parents abused you, Armand. That’s what that was. They beat you.”

Armand shook his head. “Non. I’m bad kid. I break rules, I get punish. They don’t hurt that bad. They only hit my butt. They don’t break me or bleed me.”

“That’s… Armand, what about your infection?”

“Only last time ‘cause I hurt that boy. Papa say if I’m gonna be so violent, he show me why I can’t be. I learn. It hurt so bad, I kick him. I never have fight again. Not fun gettin’ hurt.”

“That’s the first time your parents left scars? Armand, you’re covered.”

“I make lots myself. Only on my face, Papa do it. I was little. He was too strong. They were the accident. He never do it again and he kiss me.”

“You make them yourself?”

“Oui. If I’m bad. If they don’t know I do bad. A lot after I get kick out. Sometimes before.”

“I understand, Armand. I don’t want you doing that anymore, okay? If you break a rule, you’re going to be disciplined. That doesn’t mean you’re going to get hit, though. We might lecture you or take a privilege away. We’ll figure it out, alright?”

“Okay, Will… I… do it before. I feel bad. I call Maman a stupid bitch when I leave. Tell her I hate her and I hope she rot in Hell with Papa.”

“Okay, Armand. No more, okay? If you think you deserve to be punished for something, I want you to come to Hannibal and I. We’ll take care of it.”

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“They tell me that I get taken if I say I need to get punish so big. If you punish me big like this, will I get taken?”

“No, Armand. They lied. You wouldn’t have been taken because you did anything wrong. You would have been taken because your parents were abusing you. We will never be so harsh with you, so you will never be taken away from us. However, if you break a law, Hannibal and I might not be able to protect you from getting arrested. If you do that, yes, you will be taken into police custody. If that ever happens, we’ll do all that we can. If you get sentenced to a hospital, or a juvenile detention center, or when you’re older, a jail, we will visit you. But I don’t want you to worry about all that, okay? I want you to be a happy kid. No more fighting. No drugs. We’ll get through this. And if you ever need to talk about the punishments they gave you, we’re here to listen. You don’t have to keep them a secret from us. We won’t judge you.”

“Will?”

“Yes, Armand?”

“Merci.”

 

* * *

 

“Did she sign the papers?”

“She did. Did he speak with you?”

“He did.”

“And what’s the plan?”

“No mercy.”

“I’m shocked, Will.”

“You don’t  _ want _ to know what they did to him.”

“I think I do.”

“They’re disgusting. They beat him. Then made him believe they didn’t, because they only targeted one spot on his body. They abused him so bad. He’s afraid he’s going to be taken away for being too bad, Hannibal.”

“Therapy, then… lots of it.”

“Not from you.”

“I’d like to think I’m an exquisite therapist.”

“After what you did to me?”

“I helped you reach your full potential. Or so I thought. It seems Armand may have finished the job for me.”

“Your methods are unorthodox.”

“So were theirs. I’m not going to hurt him, Will. He’s been through enough.”

 

Will shot him a firm glare, then snatched the scalpel from his hand. He approached Madame Duval menacingly, circling her like a vulture to prey. His gaze judged her hard and there was no forgiveness in his expression. No pity. It wasn’t just the dark nature that lie within him finally surfacing, it was revenge for the torture of an innocent soul.

“You’re heartless,” he told her, grimly. “But I want to verify that claim.”

Hannibal watched in amusement as Will cut the buttons off her blouse and sliced off her bra. His eyes brimmed with pride as he watched the scalpel pierce the flesh and draw out lines of viscous red. Her cries and pleading were music to his ears, and he couldn’t hide his excitement as Will stood from her limp body and turned to him. The front of him was drenched in blood, and nothing appealed more to Hannibal than the human heart in Will’s hand.

“Will.”

“I brought the cow to the butcher. Your turn to provide for the family.”

 

* * *

 

Will skimmed over a newspaper in the living room, while Hannibal busied himself in the kitchen. At the scent of food wafting through the house, Armand stampeded downstairs. The boy had an endless pit for a stomach, it seemed. He approached Will on his way to the kitchen, still a little shaken by their conversation a few days ago.

“Somethin’ smells good.”

“Hannibal’s making dinner. Did you eat the lunch he left you?”

“Non. I wasn’t all that hungry before. I only eat some cereal. What he makes for dinner?”

“For you, I think he’s making duck breast. We’re having something you probably wouldn’t like.”

“Can I try some?”

“Hannibal froze some. He said he’ll make it for you when you’ve been here long enough.”

“Why that matters?”

“You’ve been starved. He wants to give you a healthy diet.”

“What he makes for you?”

“Heart.”

“Oh… that sound gross. I wait and try it later. He right.”

  
  



End file.
